


Sugar, Sugar

by AlannasTara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, because i can't deal with any more angst with these characters, its enough to give me a toothache, nine lives 2017 summer survival series find your gspot challenge, no seriously, nothing but sugary smooshy gooey fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/pseuds/AlannasTara
Summary: "It all started with the damn funnel cake."Written for the Nine Lives 2017 Summer Survival Series "Find Your Gspot" Challenge. Caryl. Oneshot. Complete.





	Sugar, Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @subversivegrrl for looking this over for me! 
> 
> 6 words:  
> glasses  
> git  
> gazebo  
> grime  
> granules  
> Gatineau*

**Disclaimer: I do not own TWD or any of the characters, nor am I profiting in any way from the use of said characters.**

 

* * *

_It all started with the damn funnel cake_. He never could refuse her anything, and when her eyes lit up, reflecting all the twinkling and flashing lights of the attractions at the county fair, he was helpless to say no. That's how they wound up in the hospital. As he dusted the powdery sugar off his tee-shirt, he swore he'd never even look at a funnel cake again.

* * *

"Ohhh, please? They're so good." Carol grasped his hand, pulling him to stop at the end of the long line of people waiting for every single fried, greasy, sugary food you could ever imagine. "I haven't had one since my mom took me to the hot air balloon festival in Gatineau, back when I was 12? 13? I can't remember; anyway, you have to try one!" Carol turned to look at him, her skin gleaming reflecting the pale moonlight which glanced off her face and highlighted the curve of her cheek, and the smooth line of the bow of her lips.

"What is a funnel cake, anyway?"

"It's a cake…there's batter...it's fried...there's powdered sugar, umm…"

"You don't even know what it is, do you?" Daryl chuckled as she twisted up her lips and grimaced.

"I do, but I can't explain it. You're just gonna have to trust me and taste for yourself." Carol ended with a smirk, the lilt in her voice laced with innuendo.

"Mmmhmm," Daryl grunted, granting no other response to her teasing, but digging his wallet from his back pocket as they approached the counter where the stifling heat from the deep fryers poured out of the of the tiny food stand. The heavy scent of grease was overwhelming despite the cool night breeze.

The bleach blonde teenager at the screened window took their order, asking if they wanted the Red Velvet or Maple Bacon. Her chewing gum popped loudly as she waited on them to decide.

"Maple Bacon! There's nothing as good as bacon!" Carol fairly bounced in her excitement, and Daryl watched as she licked her lips in anticipation. So caught up in looking at her, he almost missed the girl handing him his change from the order. The coins clanged onto the metal counter. He slapped his right hand on his forehead, trying and failing to cover his blushing cheeks, while he grabbed up the change with his left, stuffing it in the pocket of his worn out Levi's.

With her flimsy paper plate and plastic fork in hand, Carol led the way towards the picnic benches grouped together under the tall, steel light poles. Strings of multi-colored pennant banners were strung across the open air from pole to pole, along with strands of clear mini-lights creating a festive appearance. Kids ran back and forth laughing, with popsicle stains around their mouths and chocolate on their shirts, as their parents rested on the benches between rides.

"Have a taste." Carol held up the fork with a dripping, gooey, maple-y piece of cake, and Daryl opened his mouth reluctantly. "So? What do you think?" she asked, waiting expectantly for what was she was sure would be a favorable response.

"It's a'right," Daryl grunted, shrugging his shoulders. When Carol's eyes opened wide, and her mouth popped open in mock outrage, he laughed. "It's good. Don't see what the fuss is though."

"You're just a party pooper. Humph," Carol turned away from him, shoveling another bite into her mouth, and licking her lips exaggeratedly.

They sat there in comfortable silence ignoring the chaos around them as she finished her super-sweet treat.

"Wanna walk around some more?" Carol nudged his shoulder, rubbing her stomach in the same motion. "I need to work off that cake before I go into a sugar coma."

"Sure."

She tossed her plate and fork in the large metal trash can set up at the entrance and exit to the picnic area. A fluttering breeze caught the edge of the plate as she let go, and flipped it up, sprinkling leftover powdered sugar on the two of them.

"You got somethin'..."

Daryl reached his thumb up to her face and softly, gently wiped a few stray granules of sugar from the corner of her mouth.

He looked at her lips a second longer before dropping his hand and turning, walking quickly ahead of her with no destination in mind. She eventually caught up with him, determined to act like nothing happened.

The loud gunning of engines from the tractor pulls faded to a dull roar the further they got from the main thoroughfare of the fairgrounds. As they walked, Carol pointed out different sights and sounds. Daryl made a couple of observations as they passed the classic cars lined up for a show - remarks about different engines and chassis, and other stuff about which she knew zip.

"Over there!" Carol exclaimed, pointing to an old gazebo off of the "official" fairgrounds towards the woods. "Ohhh, it looks spooky! Let's go check it out." She took off through the knee-high grass with Daryl trailing after her.

"Hold up. You tryna make some new best friends? Scare up some snakes?" He questioned her as she stomped through the weeds.

"I'm not scared of any old snakes. You'll protect me," she said, matter-of-factly, like it was a foregone conclusion. The hell of it was that she was right.

As they reached the derelict frame of the gazebo, he could see the vines trailing up around the railings. They were wrapped so tightly and so closely around the banister, he almost couldn't see the faded whitewash of the wood underneath. The steps were rotted through, and Carol had to grip the post to haul herself up onto the landing.

"Watch out. It's creaking something awful up here," Carol admonished as she twirled in a circle, examining all the nooks and crannies under the domed ceiling.

Daryl followed her up, and stood off to the side, watching the curiosity and excitement play on her face.

"I wonder what it was like back when it was new? You think people came here for picnics? Ohhh, I wonder if there were any proposals here?"

Daryl chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Thought you said it was spooky."

"Well, now it is. But think about it," she said, moving to sit next to him on the railing. "I bet back in the day it was real pretty. Some couple in a horse and buggy pulled up and hitched the horse to the railing. He helped her down and her long skirts brushed the ground as he took her hand and led her inside." Carol's voice took on a soft dreamy quality, and Daryl just stared at her in adoration, while she continued on with her fanciful story. "I bet he got down on one knee and took out the ring, and asked her oh so sweetly to be his wife, and she gasped as he removed her glove and placed the ring on her finger. She probably said, 'I'd love nothin' more than to be your wife,' because that's what they did back then, but I bet they were still madly in love."

"I never knew you were such a romantic."

She turned and caught him staring at her, drinking her in, his eyes soft and gentle. Looking at her in a way she knew he didn't look at anyone else. Her breath caught in her chest when he leaned in slightly, gazing at her lips. She met him halfway, eyes closed, and just as she felt his lips brush hers-

_CRAAACKKK_

The bottom fell out from beneath her. Literally. A startled cry burst from her lips and then a scream of pain as she landed on her side in the pile of splintered wood and tangled vines.

_"CAROL!"_

Daryl jumped down onto the pile of debris and knelt beside her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking from beneath her eyelids.

"What hurts, sweetheart?" The term of endearment slipped from his lips without a second's notice but he paid it no attention. All he could see was Carol, hurting, and crying. In pain.

"My arm. I think it's broken!"

"Okay, okay. Shhhh. It's okay. I'm gonna get you to the hospital and you're gonna be fine. Can you walk?"

Her only answer was a whimper. She still hadn't opened her eyes.

"A'right, I'll carry you. I'm gonna pick you up now, real gentle." He slipped his arms beneath her back and her knees, straining but being careful not to jostle her arm too much as he lifted her. She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming, holding the injured limb to her chest.

"I gotcha. I gotcha," Daryl murmured in a soothing voice. He took off towards the parking lot, going as fast as he dared through the field towards his truck. When he reached it though, he had to stand her up to open the door. He turned to help her up into the raised cab and his heart squeezed. Tear-streaks trailed down her cheeks, pale lines in the dust and grime covering her face.

He broke just about every traffic law known to man on the way to the hospital and somehow still managed to keep Carol from being jarred too badly in the cab of the truck.

When they reached the hospital, Daryl ran to get a wheelchair from just inside the sliding glass doors and helped Carol into it before wheeling it into the Emergency Department. Carol was triaged and taken back for X-rays while Daryl was kept waiting in the waiting room. It was empty, not unusual for this time of night in their small county hospital.

While he was waiting to go back and visit Carol, he figured he would go and wash the dust and dirt off himself, so he'd be nice and clean when he saw her again. He dusted powdered sugar off his tee shirt, and went in search of a restroom.

* * *

"Ohmigodhiseyes," Carol slurred, her eyes blurry and unfocused. "Did I mention his eyes?

"His eyes?" the nurse with a badge that read "Tara" questioned Carol.

"They're so bluueeeee. I loveeeeee..."

Carol's eyes fluttered shut as she trailed off, and her head dipped to the side of the pillow. The shot of drugs flowed through the IV, taking effect quickly.

The attending on call had looked her over and ordered X-rays and pain meds before moving on to the next patient. He was already able to tell her arm was broken, but needed films to determine where and how, and if there were further injuries, masked by the pain in her arm. Carol's skin was already bruised from the fall, blue and purple quickly blooming over her pale skin.

So there she lay, drifting in and out on her wave of opioid fantasy, where apparently Daryl played a hefty role. One by one, Carol had waxed poetic to the nurse on Daryl's many wonderful traits, both physical and otherwise. How he was so selfless, how he looked out for her, how strong he was, and most recently, how blue his eyes were and how they just matched the cornflower color of the sky on a cloudless day.

Tara rolled her eyes, smirking and muttering under her breath.

"Ohmigodhisarmsssss," Carol popped her head up, blinking her bleary eyes, and looking at Tara. "How could I forget his armssssss?"

"I have no idea." Tara grinned, recording Carol's vitals on her chart.

There was a knock on the door and Tara looked up, seeing a man who she assumed had to be Daryl, going by his eye color and defined, muscled biceps.

"You must be the infamous Daryl," she said, chuckling to herself.

"Yeah, uh, she gonna be okay?" he asked, motioning to the still form in the bed.

"Dr. Granville will be in shortly to talk with her about the results of the X-rays. You can take a seat over there and wait with her if you like. Are you her emergency contact?"

"Yes, I'm...we're...uh, yeah. That's me." He stuttered over his words, flustered with everything that was happening.

"Okay, we'll have some forms to fill out a bit later. There's the call button. Press it if she needs anything and someone will answer."

Tara pressed the hand sanitizer dispenser on her way out of the room, and Daryl could smell the heavy alcohol and disinfectant scent from where he was sitting. His nose wrinkled, the smell bringing back unpleasant memories.

His hand searched out Carol's uninjured hand, taking care around the IV taped to it. Just feeling her hand in his soothed his nerves, and he hoped on some subconscious level it helped her, too.

He lost track of time, not knowing exactly how long it was that he'd been sitting there, staring at the wall, when there was a sharp knock on the door. It swung open and Daryl had to school his face not to show any reaction to the man standing there.

He was a short, stooped man, with thick, black, slicked-back hair, a handlebar mustache, and large spectacles resting on the tip of his nose. Thick glass lenses set in the frames, and made his eyes appear ten times larger. Daryl wondered how they didn't fall off his face, they looked to weigh so much.

"I'm Dr. Granville. This must be Miss Peletier."

Daryl started at the heavy British accent with which the man spoke. It wasn't too common to have someone from across the pond in their small town.

"Yeah, this's Carol," Daryl answered. He leaned over and nudged Carol, trying to wake her up. "Carol. Doctor's here."

She opened her eyes, fluttering them sleepily, then groaning as she tried to move.

"Ouch. Everything hurts." She grimaced, staring down her body and taking inventory of her injuries.

"Miss Peletier, I'm Dr. Granville." He reached out to shake her hand before realizing he was reaching for the broken arm. Daryl rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe this guy.

Carol nodded, acknowledging his important position, as he seemed to want her to do.

"I've looked over your films, and you have no internal injuries, which is brilliant. Of course, you have the fracture, but everything else is hunky-dory."

Daryl looked at Carol, who was staring at the doctor like she didn't have a clue what was going on. The doctor paid them no mind and kept on with his one-sided conversation.

"Now I'm sorry, I'm sure your night's gone all to pot, but I'm writing you a scrip to manage your pain. You'll need to schedule an appointment with an orthopedic specialist to get a permanent cast, but we'll fix you right up with a splint here in the meantime."

The doctor finally paused and looked up, peering through his glasses at Carol while waiting for a response.

"O-okayyy…" Carol's voice trailed off. Daryl thought Carol still sounded confused, and figured it was a lot for her to take in at once.

"Any questions for me?" The doctor stared at Carol for a long second before continuing, "Well alrighty-o then. Brilliant." The doctor nodded then, and with a brisk, "Good evening," he turned and walked to the door, taking short measured steps.

As soon as the door closed, Carol burst out laughing, startling Daryl, causing him to jump in his seat.

"What the hell?"

"Ohhhh, I can't, I can't...didn't he-didn't he look like-" Carol couldn't get the words out around her laughter, and had to take several breaths to calm down enough to make herself understood.

"Didn't he look like Mr. Peanut?" Carol giggled, smothering her mouth with her hand.

Daryl looked over at her like she had two heads. What in the world was going on?

"He looked like Mr. Peanut! 'He's a right British fellow, he is. Foul git, he is!' What was that?" She kept laughing to herself, like she'd said the funniest thing.

Carol wasn't paying any attention to Daryl, so he pressed the nurse's call button, and asked for Tara to come back.

Tara walked in, concern on her face until she saw Carol laughing and Daryl looking at her like she'd grown horns in her sleep.

"Is everything okay? You paged?"

"What-What the hell is wrong with her? What'd you guys give her? She's fuckin' loopy." Daryl waved his hand around, gesturing to Carol.

"You should've heard her earlier." Tara muttered under her breath, before looking up and answering in a normal voice. "She's had some pretty strong pain medicine. It affects everyone a little differently."

Daryl gave her a look as if to say, " _Duh, you think_?"

"But she's gonna be okay? This'll wear off eventually, right?"

"Yes. It will wear off eventually, but we hope to get the splint on before it does, so the manipulation of her arm doesn't pain her too much."

Daryl winced at that. He didn't want her to be in pain, but this weird, loopy Carol frightened him. She wasn't herself.

"Okay. Uh, thanks."

"No problem." Tara backed out of the room, closing the door softly, so the giggling and laughter didn't bother any other patients.

Daryl was sitting in the chair with his head in his hands when he heard Carol speak again.

"Daryl?"

He looked up at her. Her face was flushed from the laughing, and her eyes were wet with tears of laughter.

"Yeah?" He answered.

"Can we go back to the fair and get some Red Velvet funnel cake?"

Daryl shook his head in disbelief. She was off her rocker.

"Why don't you try to get some rest until they get back to fix up your arm?"

"Yeah, I guess I am a bit sleepy." Carol yawned and closed her eyes. Every so often a small giggle escaped, growing quieter as she drifted off into a hazy slumber.

Daryl slouched down in his seat and crossed his feet, one heavy boot over the other. He eyed the level in the IV bag as it slowly decreased while the machines hummed and beeped. He listened to the squeaking of the nurse's rubber soled shoes in the hallway outside as she made her rounds. Carol's hand was grasped in his, and he brushed his thumb lightly over the back of it, feathering it against her skin, calming and soothing.

He swore they waited even longer this time before someone came in wheeling a cart with medical supplies. He was here to put on the splint. The young man didn't look like he'd been out of high school for very long, much less know what he was doing working in a hospital. But he was quick and efficient as he placed Carol's arm in a soft cotton sleeve-sock-like thing. She woke up during that process, and Daryl was semi-relieved to notice she wasn't giggling or laughing anymore. The guy, whose name was Zach (Daryl finally noticed his badge), wrapped some more cotton padding around her arm, then placed a thin fiberglass board underneath it. He ended with one of those beige stretchy bandages, which he wrapped around her arm and the board.

"This will keep until she can get into Ortho. Keep it dry, and don't try to adjust it because it could cause dangerous and painful shifting of the bone."

Daryl nodded, looked at Carol, noticed her eyes were much clearer, and she responded to the young man.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." She smiled to reinforce her gratitude, and Daryl felt a wave of relief. She seemed to be much more lucid than before.

"The nurse will bring your discharge papers and you'll be all set to go. Have a good night!" He waved and with his supplies put back on his cart, he backed out of the room, dragging the cart with him.

"You about ready to blow this joint?" Daryl asked, running his hand through his messy hair.

"I can't say I wouldn't mind my own bed and pillow right about now," Carol responded.

"I'll stop on the way home and get your medicine so you won't have to be in too much pain."

"Thank you. Not just for that, I mean. For taking care of me tonight. I don't know what I'd do without you." Carol smiled up at him, that beautiful smile she seemed to save only for him.

"It's nothin. You'd do the same for me."

"I don't know about picking you up though. You have me out-gunned in the muscle department," Carol teased, winking up at him while flexing her good arm to show her toned bicep.

"You stop." He laughed, his cheeks turning pink.

Once they got her discharge papers and her scrip, he pushed her out to his truck in the wheelchair the nurse brought to the room. As he was helping her up into the cab again, he heard his name.

"Daryl?"

"Hmm," he grunted in response, leaning over her lap and struggling to buckle her seat belt for her.

"Can we go back and get some Red Velvet Funnel Cake?"

_Damn Funnel Cake_. He shook his head, tossing his hair out of his face so he could look up at her.

"Are you fuckin' with me?"

Carol started laughing again...but this time it was her normal laugh, soft and sweet, _just like her._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes:
> 
> *Two important tourist attractions located in Gatineau are the Canadian Museum of History and the Casino du Lac-Leamy. In August, the Casino hosts an international fireworks competition which opposes four different countries with the winner being awarded a Prix Zeus prize for the best overall show (based on several criteria) and can return in the following year. At the beginning of September, on Labour Day weekend, Gatineau hosts an annual hot air balloon festival which fills the skies with colourful gas-fired passenger balloons.
> 
> There are many parks. Some of them are well gardened playgrounds or resting spaces while others, like Lac Beauchamp Park, are relatively wild green areas which often merge with the woods and fields of the surrounding municipalities. Streams of all sizes run through these natural expanses. Most of the city is on level ground but the Northern and Eastern parts lie on the beginnings of the foothills of the massive Canadian Shield, or Laurentian Mountains. These are the "Gatineau Hills", and are visible in the background of the companion picture. One of Gatineau's urban parks, Jacques Cartier Park, is used by the National Capital Commission during the popular festival, Winterlude.
> 
> Nightlife within the city of Gatineau is mostly centered in the "Vieux-Hull" sector behind the Federal office complexes of downtown. The area features many bars and restaurants within a stone's throw from Ottawa. It is a popular spot for young Ontarians as the legal drinking age in Quebec is 18 (as opposed to Ontario's 19).


End file.
